A Bottle in an Infinite Sea
by Hero of Olympus in Disguise
Summary: AU. Life is like a roller coaster—once you get on, you have no control over it. You can only sit back, and wait for the end. PLEASE REVIEW. Some bad words. Please vote on the poll in my profile.


**WARNING this is something my 2 a.m. mind came up with! Super depressing! Leave a review. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! PLEASE VOTE ON POLL IN MY PROFILE**

When I was four, my mom and dad got divorced. We acted like everything was fine. After all, he did live only one block away from us.

He would visit us two Sundays a month (even though by court order it was supposed to be between Friday and Monday morning, every week) and together, my older-by-one-minute-brother Malcom, and younger sister by two years, Zoë, and father and I would go to the mall, movies, or park. Everything was nice and dandy, mom would take care of us between Sunday night and Sunday morning, and we'd have eight hours with my dad. That was, until one night when I was twelve.

I don't remember much, but I remember a day of visiting my step-sister, from my dad's side, and being in a car, my brother leaning toward the window, asleep. My sister was on my shoulder, asleep. I, as always, stayed awake.

It was probably 8:00 pm, on a regular Sunday of February, my step-sister was giving us a ride home. I remember her and my dad arguing about something. _"You can't leave at this time. This is the time they'll ever need you the most. I remember when you left me at that age, I really fell hard._

 _"They need the father figure every child needs, now more than ever. Have you even told them yet? And before you ask, no. I won't. I can't hurt them like that. Their my only family left besides you."_

 _"No. I haven't told them. I'm leaving on Tuesday, whether you like it or not. My brother has offered me a job over there—a better life."_

 _"You'd rather live with someone who's never bothered to help you before, than stay with those that love you? Wow."_

Nothing more was said. When I felt that we were near our destination, I closed my eyes and acted as if I were asleep.

Looking back at it, I wish I wasn't a coward and faced the thing I feared.

The rest of the week, all I did was read. I didn't talk to anyone, but my best friend Thalia Grace, I didn't even answer the questions teachers would occasionally ask me. My family began to worry and asked me what was wrong, I would just wave them off and say nothing.

Monday came and went, I remember it was time for bed, and I received a text, from Dad. It was explaining that his brother offered him a room as long as he moved with him—across the country. Literally. I didn't answer back. With a blank face, I turned off my phone, and climbed into bed. I didn't sleep that night.

Tuesday came, and after the Honor Roll breakfast, Dad left, promising he would call me when he landed. Just like every other promise, it was not fulfilled. Like an idiot, I locked myself in my dark room, reading, listening to slow, sad music. The whole time I was just waiting for my phone to light up and show that 'Dad' was calling. Three months. Eighty-one (81) days. One-thousand-nine-hundred-forty-four hours (1,944). One-hundred-sixteen thousand-six-hundred-forty seconds (116,640). 1.1664e14 nanoseconds. But please, don't let me bore you with the math. After all, it's only numbers.

A nanosecond felt like a minute; a minute an hour; an hour a day; a day a week; a week a month; a month a season; and eventually a season felt like a full year had gone by by the time I bothered to give up on my father.

Summer vacation came and went, and the one time I spoke to my father, it was because I called asking him why he called my brother, and sister, but didn't call me. That conversation barely lasted a minute before he hung up, claiming he had a 'customer.' I may have been 12 at the time, but even at that age I knew that was total, absolute, bullshit. The f***ing b**tard can choose who he picks up. I'm not new to the whole - business. You see the job, and decide whether or not you can/can't/should/shouldn't take it.

I felt like punching a wall. And punch a wall I did. I punched and punched, I punched until the next day at school, Thalia asked me why my knuckles were bruised and cut. I plastered a fake smile, and told her that I was playing around with my siblings and that accidentally happened. For the rest of the week my friend eyed me suspiciously.

September came, and I was just as depressed as I was in February.

October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, and June passed by. Anything exciting? No. Nothing in my life ever is. The time for School Choice came, I signed up for three of the top schools and that's it. One whole year—though it felt like a decade—passed and my father only called me about two or three times a month. Short, one minute phone calls.

Most of the time, life isn't what you see in the movies. It isn't some action packed, romantic, happy, life. They have their ups and downs, though so far I've only had downs, and you can't do anything about it.

It's like a rollercoaster, once you get on, you've chosen your fate. It's either you do or don't enjoy what you've been given, your choice.

Once you get on that ride, there's nothing you can do besides wait for the end.

Once you get on that ride: you stay on, or fall off and get a quicker end.

Once you get on that ride, whether it's all going down, or going up, or going up and down, or straight, you have no control over it. Whether you get wet or not, you have no control.

It's like you're an empty bottle and lost in a great, infinite sea. You can do nothing but go with the flow. You can do nothing but feel lonely in life—unless you decide to change your path and find some other 'bottles.'

I can't help but feel that the sea doesn't like my presence, so it keeps on creating tsunamis to push me under. I can't help that no matter how tall, how wide, and how strong the tides, or the waves, or the size of the tsunami gets, my little stubborn bottle can't help but keep on floating back up to the top, just barely making it on it's own.

My name is Annabeth Chase, and I am a lost bottle in a dangerous, infinite sea.

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 **Thank you,** _MusicalBookworm_ **! Really appreciate the review. And yes, I will continue writing. I don't think for this little one-shot though. I think it's fine the way it is. Unless others disagree... but yes, I will continue listening to my "amazingly talented" 2am mind.**


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